Page 89 of Naughty November

He shakes his head. “No—I—I think I’d like to keep your words on me like a secret.”

I groan as the image flashes through my head: Jools, at work, mywords on his skin, hidden beneath his clothes. “There’s no need to decide that now.” But oh, how I want him to feel the same way in the morning. I point to ‘restraints’. “You also starred this.”

“Yes.”

“Have you been restrained before?”

“No. Nate wanted to tie me up, but it didn’t feel right with him.”

“And with me?”

He meets my stare. “I trust you.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling like all my Christmases have come at once. “Safe words.” I need to keep my thoughts on track. I’m the Dom. I have to take care of Jools, not get caught up in the moment.

“Traffic lights?”

“That works. Youmustuse them, Jools. There’s never any shame in needing things to slow down or stop altogether. Things that seem sexy in theory can sometimes be overwhelming in reality.”

“I’ll use them.”

“Are we just playing or?—?”

He crooks the right side of his mouth into a lusty smile. “Play with me, Devin. Play with me and make love to me.”

I kiss him like it’s the last chance I’ll ever get to taste his lips. “Let’s go to mine.”

After showering separately, we walk to the tube station and head towards my flat. I divert us early so we can go to a shop to buy markers that are safe to use on Jools’ skin but won’t smudge or smear with ease. I choose his favourite colours: red, orange, yellow. The colours of the sunset reflected in a still lake. The colours of the flames of a campfire that warmed us as we kissed. The colours that were reflected on his pale skin, as I realised I was falling in love with him. I also buy toothpicks. I have everything else we’ll need, including cuffs that will be soft against his wrists and ankles.

We talk, too, continuing our mission to catch up on nine years apart while also revisiting joint memories. Our first kiss. First tentative touches. Wanting more but too nervous and unsure to voice ourdesires to take that step. We apologise for losing touch the first time and not making the effort the second time.

I let him into my flat. “Let’s not think about it anymore. We’re here, together, now. That’s all that matters.”

Jools puts his rucksack containing his work clothes and toiletries down and embraces me. “I’m still having a hard time believing we were lucky enough to run into each other again.”

I hold him.

He dips his head, resting his cheek on my shoulder. “Do you remember what you said right before I left for Australia?”

I stroke his hair. The words are ingrained in my heart. “We’re meant to be together, Jools. You’ll see.”

“Do you still believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why couldn’t you say it when you said goodbye in Amsterdam?”

My chest tightens. “Because I was stupid. Because I was awed that fate had brought us back together once and wasn’t sure I could rely on it to bring us back together again.”

“Serendipity,” he whispers.

“Isn’t there a film called that?”

He chuckles. “Yes. We watched it as kids. You sulked because you ‘didn’t want to watch a stupid romance movie.’”

“It was stupid.”

He lifts his head and stares into my eyes. “Was it?”